Trouser Trauma
by Trolley
Summary: Look at him, shoving that vile tongue of his down her throat. No shame, no compunction! Seems one can’t innocently spy on anyone anymore without being assaulted by such harsh displays of adultery.-- Dutchy gets histrionic over a special pair of pants...


Yet another challenge response, written for Week 3. And yes, the histrionic drama is intentional. Heh. Enjoy, and remember: Trolley 3's reviews!!  
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I scoff and return to my reading as my arch-nemesis enters the bunk room. Look at him, so conceited and demeaning. As if the world revolves around him. Just who does he think he is, huh? Coming in here every night like he's somethin special. He is the very bane of my existence.  
  
It wasn't always like this. I haven't always felt such a strong, burning desire to rip out Kid Blink's eyeball and internal organs and roast the rest of him on a burning spit in the middle of Central Park for all to see. We used to be the best of friends. Blink 'n Dutchy, best friends forever. We even carved that on a tree. Ha! I've long since hacked down the offending conifer and burned it.   
  
It all started three weeks ago…  
  
(cue dramatic flashback sequence)  
  
"Heya Dutch," Blink greeted in his usual cheery, friendly façade. Just thinking about it nearly makes me retch.  
  
I smiled my usual sincere smile. It was the last one that this traitor would ever seen from me. "Hey buddy, what's up?" Oh, I was so stupid ever thinking that we could have ever been friends.  
  
"Actually, I gots a problem. I can't find any clean pants, can I borrow some of yours?" He had sounded so innocent.  
  
And I had believed it. We're newsies, for God's sake! Who wears clean clothes? "Sure, go for it."  
  
"Thanks man, don't know what I'd do without cha." He then proceeded to rifle through all of my belongings and pull out my favorite pants.  
  
"Thanks a lot man, I'll give em back soon as I'm done with em."  
  
(end flashback)  
  
My favorite pants. Everyone knows those are my favorite pants. Or were, actually. They were a nice pair of corduroys, so soft and comfortable, with just the right amount of wear…haven't seen them since.  
  
I still don't know what happened to them. Most likely, he ruined them on one of his nightly escapades with some random girl. Heh. But anyway, like I was saying, I never saw the pants again. And here is now, a new girl on his arm.  
  
And new pants on. Yes. Those are most definitely new pants. How can he possibly afford new pants? And if he can afford new pants, he can most certainly return mine. The nerve of him. They're most likely stolen. I could get him in such trouble. But that's not my style. No, I prefer to remain in the background, festering in my own personal pool of agony, betrayal, and deceit.   
  
Ah, look at him now, exchanging all sorts of diseases with that slut. Dirty, filthy whore, letting this bozo parade her around like that. But wait a minute! I used to date that girl!   
  
Alright, this does it. First he steals my pants, now he wants my girls! Wait, I broke up with that one…but still! He knows very well that I dated her. We had something special, me and…what was her name again? Charlotte? Maggie? …ah, no matter. We were in love. But I've moved on. It certainly is a good thing I got rid of her when I did. Little cheating slut…  
  
Eck, this disgusts me. Look at him, shoving that vile tongue of his down her throat. No shame, no compunction! Seems one can't innocently spy on anyone anymore without being assaulted by such harsh displays of adultery and--sodomy?! Agh, Snitch and Skittery are at it again! It burns, it burns! Turn away!!  
  
…so yes, back to my mortal enemy. This does it. No more quiet festeration for me, no more Mr. Nice Guy! I shall confront him, and we shall have the battle of the century! Nay, the millenium! He won't live another day until I get those pants!  
  
He doesn't even see me coming. His face is too deeply buried in that of his latest conquest. Oh, I can hear it now…  
  
"Blink!" I call out my challenge, shoving him roughly in the shoulder and breaking his sinful embrace with the whore.  
  
"Eh man, what's da big idea?" The expression on his stupid face changes as he look up at me. "Oh, hey Dutch, what's goin on?"   
  
Now he tries to be nice.   
  
Despite my disgust and heartbreak, I nod politely at the girl. "Agatha." Then turn back to my nemesis, barely hearing her protests that her name is actually Virginia. That was my next guess… "Blink, this is the final straw. I've held my peace long enough. Nay, far too long! Kid Blink, you a conniving thief and a liar, and the only reason I am lowering myself to speak to you right now is to demand that you return the pants that you borrowed--no, stole from me exactly three weeks ago today!"  
  
Ha. Now he's acting dumb. As if he doesn't remember the day he betrayed his "best friend." "Oh yeah, those pants!"   
  
I'm taken slightly aback as he digs through his meager belongings, resisting the urge to laugh as a pair of boxers land on Snitch's head, resulting in some extremely amusing histrionics.   
  
But it's not funny right now. I fold my arms resolutely as he continues to burrow through the pile. Now he's under the bed. He'll never find them, for the pants are gone forever. Gone, gone! Lost in the miry abyss of time, never to be seen or heard from again.  
  
I wipe a tear from my eye as Blink emerges with--what is that? Leaping long-johns! Those are…my pants! Oh baby, where have you been all my life?  
  
Instead of bouncing on them and rubbing my face in their favorite-pants glory, I simply snatch them out of his grimy hand and flash him a sarcrine smile. "Thank you. I'll leave you two alone now."  
  
With that, I stalk off back to the confines of my own bunk. I certainly taught him a lesson. Never mess with Dutchy and his favorite pants. Oh, pants…you'll never know how much I've missed you….  
  


End   


  
Write about your FAVORITE newsie from the point of view of your LEAST FAVORITE newsie. (No cheating!)  
  
Any length 1899-ish era Any genre  
  
It can be a conversation, a narration, whatever you want. And that doesn't have to be your entire story, though it certainly could be.   
  
The story should revolve around (or just feature) one of these conflicts:   
-a broken knife   
-missing pants   
-a book which is missing crucial pages   
-someone's allergies   
-a boarded up door 


End file.
